


Exactly Like We Were

by imafriendlydalek



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on an Adele Song, Future Fic, Inspired by Music, M/M, TV Chef Bitty, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 05:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14442282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: Jack missed the shot he didn’t take at graduation. Ten years later, he’s hoping he might get a second chance.





	Exactly Like We Were

**Author's Note:**

> "When We Were Young" by Adele came up on my playlist and fic happened. Ooooops.

Jack Zimmermann doesn’t use his Twitter account often, and he’d actively avoided it for the weeks (months) following his announcement. There are two messages he keeps coming back to, though.

_@omgwhiskplease (10:25 PM, July 7, 2025): Jack, I am so proud of you for your courage. It takes a huge amount of bravery to come out (ha) and tell the world something so private about oneself, and I applaud you for doing so. I have no doubt that there are many teens out there who will find unimaginable solace in your words, in knowing that there is hope for them, that someone like them can make it in this world like you have. I know I would have, when I was a kid. I won’t say it’s easy, baring one’s soul like that for the world to take apart at their will, but it gets easier, and it is so, so worth it, not having to hide. You deserve that. You deserve the world. You’re a good person, Jack Zimmermann. It’s been too long._

_@omgwhiskplease (3:47 AM, July 8, 2025): geez why didnt u say anything back then_

And there it is. Two messages, one clearly thought-out that somehow manages to capture and assuage all of Jack’s fears and worries. The other sent in the middle of the night, and Jack can’t help but imagine Bitty, tossing and turning all night, dog-tired but unable to sleep, pulling out his phone when exhaustion has worn away the filters of the mind and firing off a message before he can think better of it.

_geez why didnt u say anything back then_

As if Jack hasn’t been plagued by that thought for years.

***

He wants to write back. He really does. He’s thought about reaching out to Bitty, about getting in touch again. It’s his own damn fault they fell out of touch - he was the one who’d moved to France during the lockout and didn’t give the Samwell crew his new number, after all. 

He’d thought it would make things easier to move on.

_geez why didnt u say anything back then_

It hasn’t.

***

It’s no secret that Jack Zimmermann is not a fan of public appearances. Yes, he was the first NHL player to come out as bi - and his sexuality had been speculated by many to be the reason for his privacy, though that wasn’t all of it - but he has continued to avoid the limelight even after. Which is why he’s almost as surprised as his publicist is when he agrees to attend this year’s HRC gala.

It’s a big affair, the annual gala: part awards show to honor those fighting for equality, part fundraiser. Mostly just a who’s who for the community. Jack’s not slated for an award, but he’s definitely part of the community now - first openly LGBTQ player in the NHL. He’s not even sure why exactly he chose to come out. He’s not seeing anyone, male or female, so it wasn’t for fear of being outed. It was just something he felt he needed to do. He’d woken up one morning, resolved to tell the world. With the unshakeable feeling that it was time for someone to step up and say it, to be the one to do it first, to take the heat. That was something Jack knew how to do. His name had been dragged through the muck by the sports media plenty over the years, he could handle another onslaught. 

These days. He could handle it these days.

Fifteen years ago… well, that story was well-known.

But that’s not why Jack is here tonight, at this gala. He’s not here so a bunch of people can clap him on the back and praise him for his bravery.

He’s here because he fucked up years ago, and he wants to fix that.

He’s here to talk to Keynote Speaker Eric Bittle, renowned patissier and TV personality. 

***

Jack looks around the room until his eyes settle on Bitty, and he feels his breath hitch. Eric looks _stunning_ in a grey tuxedo with black trim on the lapels. His bowtie is slate grey and - wow. He’s actually wearing a cumberbund. Jack can’t help but think back to the end-of-season team banquets, to Eric’s bowties and elbow patches. He’s come a long way.

He’s made quite a name for himself over the years. Jack’s been following his rise to fame - not to closely, since he’d been trying to distance himself from his past, but it’s been hard to miss. The vlog Eric had done through college must have caught the eye of some producer, because it had led to him getting a spot on group cooking show and later his own show. He’s big on Twitter, too, and those Jack does allow himself to follow along, if for no other reason than it makes him laugh. There’s a savageness to Bittle’s humor these days that hadn’t quite come out yet in college, and Jack loves it.

Bitty’s talking to a woman in a backless green dress - Jack thinks he might have seen her in a TV show, but he’s not sure. The two of them are clearly amusing themselves, though, and Jack is loathe to interrupt. Bitty throws his head back in laughter, his hand on his stomach, the champagne in his other hand threatening to slosh over the rim of the glass.

_Deep breaths, Zimmermann,_ he tells himself, and tugs at his tie as he makes his way through the crowd.

Bitty spots him when he’s about halfway there and freezes, the easy smile on his face quickly gone. His eyes darken, and panic rolls through Jack at the sight, but then Bitty grins again. It’s not as broad or as genuine as before, but it’s a start.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Bitty drawls when Jack reaches him. His Georgian accent is thicker these days. Jack wonders if he’d been trying to hide it at Samwell, but he’s seen Bitty’s show and knows it’s a big part of the persona he’s created for himself over the years. “Heard you might be here.”

Bitty hands his glass off to the woman in the dress before reaching out to offer Jack a hug. Jack feels all the air leave his lungs as Bitty draws him in, their chests pressed against each other, his hair brushing the underside of Jack’s chin.

“Bittle,” he manages.

Bitty pulls out of the hug and gives him a long look that Jack can’t interpret before responding. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann. Of all the bars in all the world …” He half-smiles, reaches out to give Jack’s hand a quick squeeze. “It’s been too long.” 

Before Jack can do more than nod, Bitty turns to the woman. “Stephanie, this is Jack Zimmermann.” He raises his hand to cover his mouth and, in a stage-whisper, adds, “He plays hockey.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes at Bitty as she hands him his glass back. “I know. Nice to meet you, Jack.”

Jack accepts her handshake. “You too, Stephanie.”

“I take it you know each other?” Stephanie asks, raising an eyebrow at Bitty with a knowing half-smile.

Bitty’s mid-sip and grimaces as he swallows. “Yeah, long time ago. We went to college together.”

Jack winces inwardly at Bitty’s choice of phrase. As if they hadn’t been teammates, hadn’t lived in a frat Haus together for a year, hadn’t shared practically everything.

Except that one thing Jack hadn’t shared, not with Bittle, not even with Shitty. There was one person in the world who’d known that about Jack at the time, and Jack still had trouble looking him in the eye (which sure made face-offs tough).

“I, um, that was a great speech, Eric.”

Eric nods, a soft smile on his face. So Bitty can take compliments now - that’s a nice development.

“Thanks, Jack. That means a lot.”

They make smalltalk for a bit. It’s somewhat awkward and stilted, the elephant in the room firmly nestled between them. Stephanie begs off to go say hi to someone else, and Jack is about to seize the opportunity, to tell Bitty all the things he’s been wanting to say for _years_ , when one of the event organizers comes over to whisk him away with a hasty apology and a “good to see you here, Mr. Zimmermann,” for Jack.

Jack watches as Eric makes the rounds, is introduced to countless people. Jack gets swept away himself for a series of introductions and an unofficial interview, and finally ends up talking to one of the few familiar faces in the crowd - a snowboarder he remembers from the Olympics a decade or so ago.

About an hour goes by, and Jack’s reached the end of that glass of champagne he was nursing, so at least he has an excuse to beg off from their conversation, to head across the room toward the bar. Eric’s over there, a few feet from the bar, and Jack considers whether to get a drink first or talk to Eric.

_I’ve waited too long already,_ he resolves.

“Bit- Eric. Can I have a moment?”

Eric looks over from his conversation at the hand on his shoulder, follows it up to meet Jack’s gaze. He does not look happy. Jack pulls his hand away quickly, shoves it in his pocket.

“Sorry,” he offers.

“Yeah, alright,” Eric concedes with a quick nod. He lets Jack lead them out of the main ballroom, into a quiet side corridor.

Jack stops when they reach a corner. With nowhere left to go, he turns to Eric. Except now that they’re here, alone, talking, he has no words.

“Jack,” Eric finally breathes.

“Eric,” Jack replies. “I’m sorry. I- I’ve been wanting to say this for so long, and now I don’t know how.”

He forces himself to look up from his shoes, to meet Eric’s gaze. And when he does, it almost knocks the breath out of him. Eric’s looking up at him, his pupils wide in the dim light of the corridor, his expression so full of warmth. It’s all those things he’d always cherished about Bitty, all those things he’d missed.

“I messed this up,” Jack admits.

The corners of Eric’s mouth crinkle in a frown, so Jack continues.

“Hockey was all I ever wanted in life. All I wanted was just to play hockey. It almost cost me everything once upon a time. But I got a second chance. It took a few years, and a whole lot of hard work, but finally people were willing to go out on a limb for me, to trust that I could be the player they thought I could be. I just - I felt like I needed to not let everyone down again. Like I needed to get out there and show them I wasn’t just some kid with a big name. Like _I_ was worth something.”

There’s a strangled whine from Eric, who’s wearing his concern clearly on his face. “Jack…” he starts, but Jack stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“Bittle, please. I need to say this.”

Eric nods ever so lightly, so Jack continues. “That day at graduation, it was like I was being torn in two directions. One part of me said finally you can have everything you wanted, to play hockey, and the other said to go talk to you, to tell you how I felt. I chose hockey. I was a coward. I was afraid of what it would meant if I told you, if we had started something. All I saw was how things would end. How keeping things secret would push us apart, eventually. I couldn’t see how it might turn out okay, and I just knew - I couldn’t put you through that. You deserved to live your life, to be true to yourself, not to have to hide because of me.”

“Jack.”

“I’m sorry, Bitty.”

“Me too, Jack. I’m sorry we weren’t able to make you feel comfortable enough around us to tell us about… well, about everything. I’m sorry you had to make such tough choices because of the way things are. Well, were. I mean, that’s why we’re here tonight, isn’t it? To change that? So those who come after us will have it easier, so they won’t have to hide?”

Jack lets out a sigh. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

“You’re a big part of that, Jack.”

Jack huffs and raises an eyebrow at Eric. “I’m just a guy with a hockey stick. I’m not the one out there lending my voice to the community, being a beacon. That’s you, Bittle.”

Eric shrugs. “Yeah, that’s true. But we need guys like you, too, Jack. People to remind the haters that we’re not all a bunch of flamboyant queens-” he strikes a pose as he says it, one hand on his cocked hip and the other pushed into his hair, and flashes Jack a broad smile “-but that we come in all flavors. And three cheers for bi visibility, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Thank you,” Jack concedes, ducking his head.

“But that’s not what you wanted to talk to me about - visibility and being beacons.”

Jack shakes his head softly. “It’s not. I mean, I’m glad we are where we are today, I just- I wanted to tell you what I hadn’t said all those years ago.”

There’s a searching glimmer in Eric’s eyes as he looks up at Jack. Finally, he lets out a sigh and relaxes. “Oh Jack,” he says quietly. “It has been a lot of years since college. I’ve changed, you’ve changed. Everything has changed.”

There it is, the thanks-but-no-thanks he’s been fearing. He just manages to nod his head solemnly. “I understand. Like I said, I just wanted to-”

A hand on his own cuts Jack off mid-sentence, and he looks down to see Eric brushing his thumb over the back of Jack’s hand.

“Hey, how about we ditch the rest of the party, go grab a cup of coffee somewhere, and you can fill me in on what you’ve been up to the last ten years. I mean, what I don’t already know from the TV.”

Hope wells in Jack, and he knows he’s grinning like a fool but he can’t be bothered to hide it. “You’ve been watching me on TV?”

Eric lets out a huffed laugh as he turns and heads back down the hall, waving for Jack to follow. “Sure,” he says over his shoulder, “but don’t let it get to your head - they just talk a lot about you on Sports Center. I might not _play_ hockey anymore, but I do still follow it.”

An image floats through Jack’s mind, of Eric in his living room, curled up on his couch in pajamas after a long day in front of the camera, a pie in one hand, the remote in the other, watching hockey recaps.

“I’ll have to be sure to send the newscasters a fruit basket, eh?”

***

Six months later, @omgwhiskplease tweets a picture of a much younger Eric Bittle looking out over the boards at Faber Memorial Rink with the caption: _#tbt to our younger days. Photo by @JackZimmermannOfficial_

Eric looks up after he’s pressed the Post button, a warm smile on his face. “Gosh, we were such kids then.”

Jack pulls him closer. “I was an idiot then.”

Eric reaches up to ruffle Jack’s hair; Jack doesn’t bother moving away. “I’m glad you grew out of that,” Eric chirps.

Jack lets out a soft laugh as he leans down to nuzzle into the crook of Eric’s neck. “Me too.”


End file.
